[13] A King in the Making
"Are you alright?" Syr's voice came from beside me, genuine concern lacing her words.
I turned to her, my head tilting to the side as I gave her a lazy smile. "Never better." Her cheeks reddened at my response, and she quickly looked away, busying herself with wiping down the counter.
"You've had quite a bit to drink," she said, still not meeting my eyes.
"Trying to get rid of me already?" I asked, finishing the last of my beer. "And here I thought we were becoming friends."
She glanced back at me, a small smile playing at her lips. "Friends don't let friends drink themselves under the table."
"Good thing I'm still firmly on top of it then." I straightened up, reaching for my coin pouch. "Speaking of which, what's the damage?"
"1,850 valis," Mia's gruff voice answered as she emerged from the kitchen. She fixed me with a stern look that reminded me of a disappointed mother bear. "And tell that rabbit boy of yours he still owes for meals."
I counted out the coins, sliding them across the counter. "Bell's debt is Bell's problem. But I'll pass along the message."
"You'd better," Mia grunted, collecting the money. Her expression softened slightly. "Come back soon, kid. Been a while since we had someone who could hold their liquor properly."
"High praise from the legendary Mama Mia," I said, standing up. The room swayed for a moment before settling. "Though I think eight might be my limit for now."
"Smart boy," Mia nodded approvingly. "Syr, make sure he gets to the door without breaking anything."
"I'm not that drunk," I protested, but Syr was already at my side, her hand hovering near my elbow.
"Of course not," she agreed, her tone teasing. "But humor me?"
We walked to the door together, her presence more steadying than I wanted to admit. At the threshold, I turned to her.
"You know," I said, "for those expensive prices, you make up for it by being excellent company."
Her eyes widened slightly before narrowing. "I'll choose to take that as a compliment."
"As you should." I stepped out into the cool night air. "Goodnight, Syr."
"Goodnight, Dante," she replied softly, watching as I started down the street.
I heard the door close behind me as I made my way through Orario's empty streets. Eight beers in and I still couldn't shake the feeling that Syr was more than she appeared. But then again, in this city, who wasn't?
The moon hung low and fat in the sky, casting long shadows across the cobblestones. Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new fights, new opportunities to climb higher in this world of gods and monsters. But for now, I was content to let the alcohol warm my blood and blur the edges of my thoughts.
[Freya's POV]
From my divine perch atop Babel, I gazed out over my city. The moonlight painted Orario in shades of silver, casting long shadows between the buildings below. Ottarl stood at attention behind me, as steady and reliable as the tower itself.
"You spoke with him at the bathhouse, Ottarl," I said, not turning around. "Tell me your thoughts on our mysterious friend."
"He's... unusual, Lady Freya." Ottar's deep voice carried across the room. "Clever. Perhaps too clever. He probes for information while appearing casual, but his questions are precise, targeted."
I smiled, remembering those piercing blue eyes looking through me at the pub. "Go on."
"His demeanor suggests experience beyond his status as a Level 1. He carries himself with confidence, but not arrogance. When I revealed I knew of his Familia, he didn't panic - he adapted." Ottar paused. "He shows potential, both in combat and leadership."
"And his flaws?"
"He relies too heavily on his wit. In the dungeon, that could be fatal. He also seems to keep everyone at arm's length, even while appearing friendly. This isolation could become a weakness." Ottar shifted slightly. "But..."
I turned to face him. "But?"
"He has the presence of a king, Lady Freya. Not in the way of most adventurers, who swagger and boast. His authority is quieter, more natural. Given time and proper guidance, he could rival even my own strength."
I walked to my ornate chair, settling into it with practiced grace. "A king, you say?" The thought pleased me more than I expected. "And what makes you so certain?"
"The way he handled our conversation. Most adventurers either cower or try to challenge me. He did neither. He treated me as an equal while still showing respect." Ottar's expression remained stoic. "That kind of balance cannot be taught."
I closed my eyes, remembering my encounters with him as Syr. Those brilliant blue eyes that seemed to see right through my mortal disguise. Every other soul in Orario lay bare before me, their colors and shapes as clear as crystal. But Dante... his soul was shrouded, like trying to see through fog.
"When I look at Bell," I started, "I see potential waiting to be shaped. A blank canvas eager for paint. But Dante..." I paused, searching for the right words. "It's like looking into a labyrinth of mirrors, each reflection showing something different, yet none revealing the truth."
"You believe he could be your Odr?" Ottar's question hung in the air, heavy with implications.
I laughed softly, the sound echoing off the chamber walls. "Perhaps. But which one?" I turned to face my most loyal servant. "Bell embodies everything an odr should be - pure, heroic, destined for greatness. His very nature calls out to be guided, protected, molded into something magnificent."
Moving to my wine cabinet, I poured myself a glass of deep red vintage. "Dante..." The wine caught the moonlight, looking almost like blood. "He needs no molding. He arrived fully formed, like Athena springing from Zeus's head. His soul doesn't call out to be shaped - it challenges me to understand its existing shape."
"Two very different types of interest," Ottar observed.
"Indeed." I sipped the wine, savoring its complex notes. "Bell makes me want to nurture, to protect, to guide. He awakens something almost maternal in me, even as I desire to possess his pure light." The wine glass twirled between my fingers. "Dante makes me feel like I'm the one being studied, being understood. It's... unsettling."
"Is that not contrary to what an odr should be?" Ottar asked.
"Is it?" I set down my glass with a delicate clink. "The legends speak of a hero destined to stand beside me, but they never specified what kind of hero. Should my Odr be a pure light I can shape, or an equal who can challenge me?" A smile played across my lips. "Perhaps that's what makes this so entertaining."
"You intend to pursue both paths?"
"For now." I smiled, feeling the familiar thrill of the game. "After all, what's the harm in keeping two pieces on the board? Bell's growth benefits from having rivals, and Dante..." I trailed off, remembering the way he had looked at me in the pub, as if he could see Freya beneath Syr's facade. "Dante benefits from having someone who appreciates his particular brand of complexity."
"And if one proves to be your true Odr?"
"Then the other will have served his purpose in helping reveal that truth." I picked up my wine glass again. "But until then, I think I'll enjoy watching them both dance to tunes they don't quite understand."
"Arrange for more tests," I instructed Ottar. "Different ones for each of them. Bell responds best to direct challenges - monsters, rivals, situations that force him to grow stronger. But Dante..." I smiled, remembering our verbal sparring. "Make his tests both direct and more subtle. Puzzles within puzzles. Let's see how deep that cleverness of his really goes."
"As you wish, Lady Freya."
[Dante's POV]
I stumbled into the church, the alcohol making my movements looser than usual. Bell was sprawled on the couch, Hestia curled up on his chest like a content cat. I let out a yawn, too tired to care about their sleeping arrangements.
My shirt hit the floor as I made my way to the bed. The mattress creaked under my weight as I fell face-first into the pillow. Sleep came quickly, dragging me under into blessed darkness.
Something poked my cheek. Once. Twice. Three times.
"Wake up, sleepyhead!" Hestia's voice pierced through my hangover.
I cracked one eye open to find her leaning over me, her finger ready for another assault on my face. "I'm up," I groaned, rolling onto my back. "What time is it?"
"Early enough," she said, straightening up. "I need to update your status before I leave."
I pushed myself up, squinting at the sunlight streaming through the windows. Bell sat at the small table, already dressed and looking annoyingly alert. "You're looking better."
"Thanks to you and Lady Hestia," he said, smiling. "She already updated my status too."
"Less talking, more status updating," Hestia said, gesturing for me to turn around. "I've got places to be."
The familiar cool sensation of her power spread across my back as she read my status. Her small gasp made me glance over my shoulder.
"This... this is impressive," she muttered. "One day in the dungeon and your stats jumped this much?"
"Is that unusual?"
"G-rank in strength, endurance, and dexterity. F-rank in agility and magic." She sat back, studying me with new interest. "Most adventurers take weeks to see this kind of growth."
"Guess I'm a fast learner," I said, reaching for my discarded shirt.
"Or there's more to you than meets the eye." Hestia's tone carried a hint of suspicion, but she shook it off quickly. "Anyway, I'll be gone for three days. While I'm away, I want you two to work together in the dungeon."
Bell perked up. "Together?"
"Consider it a bonding exercise," she said, standing up. "You're familia now. It's time you started acting like it."
I pulled my shirt on, considering her words. "Any other instructions before you abandon us?"
"Don't die," she said flatly. "Don't do anything stupid. And..." she hesitated, looking between us. "Watch each other's backs."
"We'll be careful, Lady Hestia," Bell assured her.
She nodded, gathering her small travel bag. At the door, she turned back to us. "Oh, and Dante?"
"Mm?"
"Next time you come home drunk, try to keep your clothes on. We have a lady present."
I snorted. "You're hardly a lady."
She stuck her tongue out at me before disappearing through the door. The church fell silent as her footsteps faded away.
"So," Bell said after a moment. "When should we head to the dungeon?"
I stood up, stretching out my stiff muscles. "Give me an hour to get some food and clear my head. Then we'll see what kind of trouble we can get into together."
He grinned, and for a moment, I understood why Hestia worried about us. We were both too eager to throw ourselves into danger, too ready to test our limits. But maybe that's what made us familia.
I pulled on my white outer robe, Mia's gruff voice echoing in my head: "Tell that rabbit boy of yours he still owes for meals."
"Wait." I turned to Bell, who was adjusting his light armor. "You still owe the Hostess of Fertility money."
Bell froze. His red eyes widened to saucers as his hand shot to the coin pouch at his belt. "Oh no." He bolted up the church stairs. "Oh crap, oh crap, oh crap!"
"Bell, wait-" I sighed, watching him disappear through the doorway. "And there he goes."
I jogged after him, the morning sun harsh against my hangover. Bell was already halfway down the street, dodging between early morning vendors and sleepy adventurers.
"Sorry! Excuse me! Coming through!" His voice carried back to me as he wove through the crowd.
"This kid," I muttered, picking up my pace. My head throbbed with each step, punishment for last night's indulgence.
Bell took a sharp turn down an alley. I followed, catching glimpses of his white hair as he darted between buildings. The back routes were emptier, letting him build up speed.
"Bell!" I called out. "The pub isn't even open yet!"
Either he didn't hear me or chose to ignore me. He burst out onto West Main Street, nearly colliding with a cart of vegetables. The merchant shouted something colorful about adventurers as Bell stammered apologies without slowing down.
I emerged onto the street in time to see him skid to a stop in front of the Hostess of Fertility. The door creaked open to reveal Mia wiping down tables while Syr arranged chairs. My hands found their way to the back of my head as I yawned, the hangover still pulsing behind my eyes.
Bell shot forward like an arrow, dropping into a perfect ninety-degree bow. "I'm so sorry for not paying the other night!" The words tumbled out of him as he thrust a small coin pouch forward. "Here! This should cover everything I owe!"
Mia straightened up, crossing her arms as she looked down at Bell's bowed form. "Well, well. Look who decided to show his face."
"I didn't mean to run off without paying," Bell said, still bent at the waist. "It was dishonorable and-"
"Oh, stand up straight before you hurt yourself," Mia said, snatching the coin pouch from his hands. She weighed it in her palm before tucking it into her apron. "At least you came back to make it right."
"Unlike some other customers," Syr added, shooting me a pointed look.
I raised an eyebrow. "I paid last night. With interest."
"After drinking enough to empty our cellar," she countered.
"Eight beers is hardly-"
"Nine," Mia corrected. "You forgot the one you stole from that merchant's table when he wasn't looking."
Bell's head whipped toward me. "You stole someone's drink?"
"Borrowed," I said, dropping into a chair. "And I left him money for it."
"On the floor under his chair," Syr said.
"Still counts."
Mia snorted, returning to her cleaning. "You two are going to be trouble, aren't you?"
"Us?" I pressed a hand to my chest. "Never."
"We're actually headed to the dungeon," Bell said, finally relaxing his posture. "Lady Hestia wants us to work together."
"Gods help us all," Mia muttered.
Syr disappeared into the kitchen, leaving us with Mia's penetrating stare. When she returned, she carried two neatly wrapped bento boxes.
"Take these," she said, holding them out. "For lunch."
Bell raised his hands. "Oh, no, I couldn't-"
"How much?" I asked, eyeing the boxes.
"For nothing." Syr pushed them toward us. "I want you two to have them."
I took one of the boxes, weighing it in my hand. Bell hesitated before accepting the other.
"Thank you, Syr," Bell said, bowing slightly.
"Thanks," I added.
Syr retreated toward the kitchen, her giggles echoing off the walls. Mia planted her hands on the counter, leaning forward.
"Listen up, you two." Her voice carried the weight of experience. "The dungeon doesn't care how cool you think you are. Being cool doesn't pay bills." She jabbed a finger at us. "You know who's cool? The ones who come back alive."
Bell nodded, hanging on every word. I lifted the bento box to my nose, trying to identify the contents through the wrapping.
Mia sighed. "Put that down and pay attention."
I set the box aside. "Yes, ma'am."
"I won't nag you too much, but-" She fixed us with a stern look. "If I find out either of you died down there, I'll be very disappointed."
"We'll be careful," Bell said.
"Now get out." Mia waved us away. "You're distracting my staff from opening."
Bell turned and jogged toward the door. "See you later!"
I followed at a more reasonable pace, raising a hand without looking back. "Thanks for the advice."
The morning air hit my face as the door closed behind me. Bell waited at the corner, practically bouncing on his feet.
"Ready for the dungeon?" he asked.
I patted my bag where the bento box sat. "After you, rabbit boy."